Chapter 18 - Fog on Pier 9
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At six o'clock, a thick Atlantic fog rolled off Narragansett Bay, swallowing the rusted shipping containers and towering iron cranes of Pier 9. Beneath a flickering sodium floodlight at the edge of the concrete wharf stood Preston Hollis, his white plaster cast glowing in the mist, flanked by Marcus and Viktor Voronin’s two surviving gunmen. A twin-engine cigarette boat idled against the pilings below them.
"Where is the girl, Viktor?" Preston whispered nervously, glancing toward the empty black van parked behind the containers. "You said she was in the van."
"She is sedated in the hold of the boat, rich boy," Viktor lied smoothly, keeping his rifle trained on the chain-link gate at the end of the pier. "You pay the second half of the bonds when the bartender walks through that gate."
Out of the swirling grey fog, a solitary figure emerged.
Delaney Marsh walked slowly down the wet asphalt lane between the towering stacks of steel containers. Her wrists were bound in front of her with heavy zip-ties, and dark blood was still crusted along the left sleeve of her leather jacket. She walked the exact same way she had walked across the Meridian rooftop lounge the night before—as though the decision had already been made and all that remained was the distance between them.
"Look who’s not so tough without a barstool," Preston laughed, stepping forward and drawing a chrome nine-millimeter pistol from his coat with his left hand. "On your knees, apron girl!"
Delaney stopped ten feet away, her eyes bypassing Preston entirely to lock onto Marcus.
"Half a million dollars, Marcus?" Delaney asked calmly. "You traded your pension and your pulse for a kid who holds a pistol like a hairdryer?"
Marcus’s face tightened as he glanced up at the silent iron cranes above them, suddenly realizing the harbor birds had gone completely quiet.
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"It’s a trap!" Marcus shouted, reaching for his weapon.
Two muffled cracks sounded from the top of the cargo crane two hundred yards away. Viktor Voronin and his remaining mercenary dropped to the wet concrete before they could even raise their rifles.
